


Then I'm Sure It'll Go Off Without a Hitch

by onward_came_the_meteors



Series: October 2020 Prompts [28]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mild Angst, One Shot, POV Third Person, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors
Summary: Accidents happen to everyone.Bruce knows from experience.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark
Series: October 2020 Prompts [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947679
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Then I'm Sure It'll Go Off Without a Hitch

**Author's Note:**

> Day 28, for the prompt "accidents"

Bruce Banner was a genius, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make his mistakes. In fact, the way most of the world now saw him was centered around his biggest mistake.

It wasn’t good to dwell on that, though. It wasn’t good to dwell on anything, really, but especially not that. Not before he’d gotten some sleep, anyway.

Being an Avenger made it easier. That wasn’t what people expected to hear; Bruce knew everyone had been waiting for him to get as far away from it all as he could after New York—and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been close to considering it—but it really  _ was _ easier. There was always something happening, something to distract: a call to assemble or a crisis to avert or a teammate who had fucked something up and now had old nemeses from fifteen years ago coming to murder them—not that anything like that had ever happened, of course.

Most of the time, living in the tower, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Like everyone got the weather report from a sentient AI and tripped over Captain America’s shield on the way to the bathroom and got messages from a literal secret agency. Here, he could be around people who were just as much anomalies as he was.

But even then, he still had to be careful.

* * *

Bruce and Tony were in a S.H.I.E.L.D. lab, both of them racing back and forth between tables piled high with equipment as screens snapped through data almost faster than they could read and the coms staticked with garbled voices.

The other four were outside—Bruce didn’t know whether “outside” meant “literally right outside the building” or “somewhere in the general area of this city,” but the muffled thundering that shook the walls every few minutes made him lean toward the former option—suited up and fighting some kind of primordial alien beings that, irritatingly, seemed to be able to shoot poisonous gas out of their mouths.

No, scratch the “seemed.” Bruce had seen an entire tree wither and topple to the ground.

About five minutes into the fight, they’d decided that Bruce would be more useful as a biochemist, and practically shoved him off the battlefield and into the lab while he was still in the process of pulling off his shirt.

It was still half unbuttoned, he noticed distractedly as he typed strings of numbers into a keypad. He didn’t bother fixing it, though; every crack and boom against the side of the building reminded him that there was not a lot of time left to get this done. 

Whatever chemicals were in the gas had reacted to specific compounds, though, so if he could just manage to synthesize—

Bruce felt himself back into something as he spun away from the desk with a beaker of his latest test theory in his hand. “Oof.”

The something turned out to be Tony, and they both watched each other for a split second; long enough for Bruce to notice that, in the light of the computer screens, the circles under Tony’s eyes were darker than usual. He wondered if his teammate had been sleeping all right. Or sleeping, period.

They hadn’t spoken much to each other since they’d started working, mostly because aforementioned work was very time-sensitive and high-stress, and neither of them were good at counteracting those particular characteristics. Tony still liked to talk while he worked, but today it had mainly been either to JARVIS or in an argument with Steve over the coms (“No, I promise your flesh will still dissolve; super soldier serum did not change your ability to disintegrate—what was that. Rogers. What was that sound. That better not have been an engine—”) and the lab was big enough that they hadn’t gotten much in each other’s way until now.

Tony recovered first, tapping away at something on his own screen. “Careful, scientist in the lab.”

“I almost got it,” Bruce said, holding up his beaker, which Tony’s eyes caught on immediately.

Tony followed him over to the main table and watched as Bruce started the final readings, blue and white symbols glowing and scrolling down the screens.

Bruce could feel both of their tension heighten as the scans reached closer and closer to the bottom. Almost there. It was almost there. If there were any errors now, it would set them back another half hour, and the rest of the team really didn’t have time for that.

“Hopefully this doesn’t go horribly wrong,” Bruce muttered under his breath. He could feel Tony’s presence over his shoulder, even though he didn’t dare take his eyes away to look for himself.

Tony seemed just as distracted when he answered. “The two of us have kinda got a track record for that, haven’t we?”

Bruce shook his head as the scanner beeped and he removed the beaker. It was a good thing, that they could joke about these things now. He’d come a long way in the past five years.

The beaker started to fizz over, and Bruce hurried to put a cap on it before the joke actually did come true.

* * *

Bruce was standing at the front of one of the many rooms at the tower that didn’t seem to have much of a purpose other than being there whenever all of them needed to sit around a table and throw whiteboard erasers back and forth while someone—almost categorically Steve—would give them a rundown of their latest mission that was really just his repressed-soldier version of a pep talk (This went under the list of things none of them talked about whenever the press asked them what it was like living with other superheroes).

Today, though, it was Bruce and Tony up at the front, and Bruce was watching their teammates’ faces as Tony gestured to the PowerPoint behind him.

Because of  _ course _ Tony had made a PowerPoint.

(“I can’t believe we just found out that the government organization that founded us has been a front for a Nazi cult, and you made a PowerPoint.” 

“Hey, do you have any better ideas?” 

“Yes. Talk to them.”

“But then they wouldn’t get to see my PowerPoint.” 

“No, they wouldn’t.” 

“You are… no fun.” 

“Yep.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment, Bruce.”)

The current slide contained a few photos of a very familiar magical mind-control stick, and Tony pointed to it as he talked.

“So,” he said. “Luckily we still have the data that we got from the scepter back in the good old days, you know, when we’d just met and didn’t know each other yet—”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t want us in on any further research done after New York,” Bruce explained when he caught both Steve and Natasha shifting in their seats. “Can’t imagine why.”

Tony gestured at him with a dry-erase marker. “Yeah. So, with that, we should at least be able to narrow down our list of Hydra bases we need to take out.”

“We  _ need _ to take out all of them,” Steve interrupted. His hands were folded flat over the top of each other, and the serious expression that he’d been wearing ever since the whole mess with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra and an assassin who was Bucky Barnes (Bruce wasn’t too clear on  _ that _ whole thing, but something told him he didn’t want to ask) had gone down.

Clint was leaning back with his chair tipped almost all the way parallel to the floor. “Hold your horses, Cap. There’s gotta be hundreds of them out there.”

“There are,” Natasha confirmed. “Based on everything I got from the spill… yeah. They just keep multiplying.”

“That is kind of their thing,” Sam pointed out. This was one of the first times Steve’s new friend had come to the tower, although he’d assured them he wasn’t interested in being a full-time Avenger—which was a polite way of saying he had an actual job. 

“Not really a fan of that thing.”

“You and me both.”

“I feel like we’re getting sidetracked,” Tony spoke up. He waved his marker. “Cap? We gave you the info, you wanna make a plan?”

“The plan is we track down the scepter and take any Hydra bases we run across off the map,” Steve said instantly.

Sam shrugged. “That should take maybe three to five business days.”

“If we’re assembling again—” Natasha’s mouth quirked a little on the word. “—then someone’s gonna have to tell Thor.”

Clint raised his hand, tipping him even more precariously off balance. By all laws of physics, he should’ve been on the floor right now. “Not it.”

“I can get in touch with him,” Bruce said. “Don’t worry.” Thor had been off the face of the earth for several months now, but he’d assured them he would be back if there was ever a cause to do battle again. Those were the actual words he’d used: “do battle.” This was Bruce's life now.

Tony turned to him with raised eyebrows. “And where exactly do  _ you _ get off with the demigod’s cell number?”

_ Heimdall isn’t exactly a— _ “I guess he thought I’d do the least damage with it.” He couldn’t suppress his smile as Tony made a “meh” noise under his breath.

“So... you guys are sure this tracking tech will work?” Steve asked.

“‘Course.” Tony slung an arm around Bruce, pulling him closer so that the light from the projector fell across their shirts. “Have we ever been wrong?”

Steve’s fingers splayed out on the table. “Yes.” 

Bruce felt his smile dim, and there was a noticeable shift of tension in the room. Just the slightest bit, but Steve apparently picked up on it.

“Oh. That wasn’t what I meant.”

_ Right. _

Bruce felt Tony move against him, and quickly opened his mouth before Tony could blurt out what he was about to say.

“It’s cool.” Bruce flicked them to the next slide, hoping to find something to get them on another topic, but it was blank. “So… I guess this is the whole saving-the-world thing again, if you guys are up for it?”

“Pass.” That was Sam, sharing a glance with Steve. “That’s your thing, magical space scepters and stuff. I’m sure—” his gaze cut to each of the Avengers in turn “—you all can handle it. But you got my number if you need an extra guy.”

Steve nodded at him before turning to Tony, who didn’t seem to notice that Bruce was sliding out from underneath his arm. 

“When do you want to start?”

* * *

All six of them were on the quinjet, but since almost nobody had the energy to talk or even move after the fight they’d just had, it might as well have been empty, with only the faint sound of the engine cutting through the sky to break up the silence.

Not that Bruce intended on changing that; he could probably fall asleep right where he sat if his headache hadn’t been a constant throbbing in the back of his skull. He laid his head back against the seat and let his gaze slide around the jet.

Clint was flat on his back in the center of the floor and staring at the ceiling for no apparent reason other than that was where his eyes were pointed. Natasha was in the pilot seat, but the almost glazed look in her eyes had Bruce wondering how much of the steering was really being done by JARVIS. As for Thor, he was passed out across a line of seats and snoring slightly from underneath the tangles of his own cape.

Bruce got rid of the burrito comparison that popped into his head and focused instead on Steve and Tony, who were the only ones standing up and still trying to pass themselves off as functioning human beings after that thorough beating-up the whole team had taken (They’d won, but they didn’t find the scepter, and there was more than a little resentment working its way through everybody’s systems).

Steve still had his shield slung across his back and Tony was in the bottom half of the Iron Man suit, like both of them had forgotten to take their equipment the rest of the way off—which was probably close to accurate, since they were currently enmeshed in a hissed argument that everyone else was pretending they couldn’t hear.

“You’re deliberately missing the point now,” Steve was saying, talking fast like he knew Tony was going to interrupt him.

Which he did, barely a breath after Steve had gotten the words out of his mouth. “Oh, so you think the fact that I designed missiles for basically the entirety of my life and you thinking I don’t know how to safely take one apart isn’t the point?” His voice was hushed, but his hands were moving quickly in the air to make up for it.

Steve folded his arms. “I think it’s incredibly reckless to take one apart while you are  _ sitting on top of it _ , yes.”

“First off, I was not _ sitting _ on it,” Tony said. “And second: remind me again exactly what  _ you _ were going to do about it other than snipe at me through the coms, because as much as I appreciate that, you were buried and someone had to—”

“Thor was on his way.”

“Was he gonna hit it with his magic lightning hammer? ‘Cause now I’m starting to wonder if you know how missiles work—”

Bruce buried his head in the crook of his arms, the pulsing in his head reaching a painful spike, before he finally looked up and said “Guys?”

Tony and Steve instantly turned toward him, both of their expressions surprised as though they honestly had no idea other people could hear them. Tony cast a brief and confused glance down at Clint on the floor before looking back at Bruce, who rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“Can you please just… save it until we’re back at the tower? And we can go to separate rooms?”

Steve was nodding almost before Bruce had finished speaking, and he and Tony both stepped away from each other. It was odd, how quickly he could shift between Captain America giving orders to just Steve standing there like his uniform didn’t fit right.

( _ Oh, it fits right _ , his brain provided, and Bruce was just tired enough not to question that).

Now that Tony wasn’t practically on top of Steve, Bruce could see that there was a little device in his hand. It became more obvious when Tony came over toward him and started fixing the blanket that had half slipped off Bruce’s shoulders. He had been planning to fix the blanket himself, but the commands his brain was giving to the rest of his body seemed to be slowing to a stop somewhere along the way.

“Tony, what’s that?” he asked, unable to suppress a shiver at the warm hands on his shoulders.

“Hmm?” Tony blinked at him. “What’s what?”

“Why do you have a miniature Hydra bomb?” Bruce glanced at Steve, who was frowning but didn’t exactly look shocked. He must’ve already gotten the explanation, sometime when Bruce was still passed out.

“Because the last time Hydra got hold of a powerful object from space, they used it to make weapons of mass destruction,” Tony said easily. He pulled out the little device, which was definitely a bomb now that Bruce had a closer look, and tossed it up and down in the air once. Steve’s eyes flicked over like he wanted to catch it, but he held still. “So I wanna poke around at this. See if it’s got scepter tech.”

“I’m not sure that scepter was tech,” Steve said thoughtfully. Tony put his hands over his ears.

“Nope, can’t hear you.”

Bruce tilted his head. “The applications of something like that—” _All the things the scepter was used for—just what happened to Clint_ alone... “—I mean, we definitely wouldn’t want it in Hydra’s hands, for one thing.” He carefully plucked the device out of Tony’s hand and started turning it around. “Is this all you could get?”

“Considering the rest of the base is currently a pile of rubble, I’d say you should be impressed I got this much.”

“Hmm.” The words slurred a bit on their way out of Bruce’s mouth, and he had a vague thought that maybe he shouldn’t be handling a dangerous explosive when he was practically shaking with exhaustion, but that slim thread of sanity came too late, and everyone in the room heard the  _ click _ as his finger slipped.

_ Shit. _

A light started blinking, and there was a high-pitched noise that was too close, it couldn’t really be that close, and it was all he could hear other than Tony’s rushed “Wait—”

And that was all there was before everything exploded.

* * *

Bruce woke up in the grass. Sunlight blurred across his vision and there was a dull ringing in his ears to accompany the headache that had only intensified.

Usually when he woke up like this, it was with panic and confusion; a desperate scramble to find out what had happened, to get to safety; to just get  _ away. _

Now he just dragged his knees up to his chest, feeling the rough dirt scrape over his hands (there was nothing to cover them, of course there wasn’t; the clothes that he’d just put on were now destroyed). Getting away was the last thing on his mind. And safety… well, what was the point of that?

He knew what had happened. He knew before he’d opened his eyes. His head slipped down into his hands, and his fingers curved up to fit the shape of his skull.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that before there were footsteps behind him. Heavy footsteps, encased in gold-titanium alloy.

Tony came and sat down next to Bruce, and a second later Bruce felt a hand rest on his shoulder (and it was  _ his  _ hand, and not a metal glove, and Bruce felt a stab of gratefulness for that even if he couldn’t articulate why).

He chanced a glance upward, but even as his eyes landed on Tony’s face, he could also see the crashed shape of the jet skidded into the ground behind him and a tiny groan escaped his throat. He dropped his head again and finally spoke. 

“I’d offer to pay for that, but… you know…”

“I do.” Tony’s voice was as conversational as ever, and Bruce wondered if he was really going to brush aside the fact that he’d  _ just crashed the jet— _

“The rest of the team?”

“They’re all fine. Really put Thor through a workout, trying to catch both Barton and Nat in midair, but it’s time he pulled his weight around here anyway.” Tony shrugged. “Soooo—that saved a lot of work, actually. Turns out the bomb wasn’t scepter tech. If it was, we’d all be tragically demised and the jet would look a  _ lot _ worse than it does now—it really isn’t all that bad now, you know; I’m just gonna have to knock out some dents later, but it didn’t take much damage except for the—”

“Except for me,” Bruce interrupted, because he could feel Tony gearing up and he was not going to let this slide.

Something in Tony’s face shifted. “It was an accident.”

“Isn’t it always.” 

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so bitterly, but he was tired. He was tired of being so careful and having it all blow up in his face anyway. It was somehow worse (no, it wasn’t worse, don’t say that, what kind of person says that) that the bomb  _ hadn’t  _ been dangerous on its own. That it was his own slip of control that had wrecked the quinjet and endangered everyone on the team.

“Don’t start with that.” Now Tony just sounded annoyed, and Bruce was about to glare at him when the hand that was on his shoulder (he’d forgotten it was there) slipped down until it was pressed firm against the center of his back. 

His skin was still prickly and  _ off _ from the transformation, and he unconsciously moved into the touch before he caught himself.

“Listen,” Tony continued, oblivious to the internal war going on in Bruce’s head. “This is going to come off as harsh and I know it is, but today has been hell, so let’s fuck subtlety for five minutes.” He forced Bruce to make eye contact, and Bruce held it, fully prepared for whatever stretched justification was going to come out of his mouth.

And then Tony said, “If you start blaming yourself, I’m going to change all your computer passwords.”

Bruce was so startled that the only thing he could think to say was, “JARVIS’ll let me back in.”

“That’s true. He does like you. Well, he’s still my AI; I’ll just make him not help you.”

“Tony, I blew up the quinjet.”

“Not technically.”

“Technically, I activated a bomb—that yeah, didn’t do much damage, but I couldn’t stop myself from transforming and—” Bruce took a breath. “I fucked up.”

“You did.” Normally, this would’ve been a precursor to Bruce winning the argument, but this was Tony Stark. Even when people  _ did _ win arguments against him, he didn’t listen. Or it wasn’t that he didn’t listen, it was he somehow heard other people telling him  _ not _ to do something and took it the opposite way. No wonder he hung around Bruce. “But you know what? The rest of us fuck up all the time. Read my Wikipedia page. Hell, read  _ Thor’s  _ Wikipedia page. Even our righteous leader literally destroyed D.C. like a month ago.”

“He did do that, didn’t he?”

“Right?” Tony shook his head. “There’s some kind of heavy-handed metaphor in that. Anyway, point is: we’re more—high-powered—than everyone else. Our mistakes tend to be more—” He waved a hand at the quinjet behind him. “—explosive.”

Bruce let his hands slide down until he was bracing himself against the ground. “They shouldn’t be.”

“Damn right they  _ shouldn’t _ be, but all we can do is work on that. I’m working on that—and once we get back to the tower, you are totally helping me figure out a better way to insulate the jet, because yeah—you did kinda smash it. A lot. But we’re not geniuses for nothing.”

“Of course I’ll help fix it,” Bruce said. “It’s just… I mean, we can make all the upgrades we want, but if it happens again… some things you can’t take back.”

“Nope.”

Bruce looked up at Tony to find him staring back, and there were words in his eyes that he was sure were reflected back in his own.

They didn’t need to say them aloud, though, and slowly—arms around each other’s shoulders as Bruce made a valiant attempt at standing without immediately collapsing—they made their way back to the team.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
